


The Waves

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Beach House, F/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Summer, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:16:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28006020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Imported from Tumblr. Reader and her family head to the beach to meet with May Parker and her nephew Peter Parker - family friends. Reader has a crush and. . . Peter might too, unbeknownst to her. Originally a planned multi-chapter work, now a one-off with no concrete ending. Leave it up to your imagination!
Relationships: Peter Parker/Reader
Kudos: 7





	The Waves

You hum along to the song on the radio as your mother drives. It’s calm - a stark contrast from the hurried packing and getting ready of the morning. Two months at the beach begins with a lot of checklists and planning, which always happens to come way too late for it to go smoothly.

Glancing in the back seat, you see your younger brothers snoozing beside one another. _Just as I expected_. You used to do the same when you were younger, but now you enjoy these car rides too much to miss them for a nap. You hope that maybe they’ll agree someday when they’re older and don’t spend every waking minute chittering like birds.

“So who are you most excited to see?”

You look over to your mother. Usually, she’d be wearing her hair up, and have on some two-piece suit for another day at the private school she teaches at. But for the summer, her hair falls in less-than-perfect waves, and she’s in a two-piece bikini under her shorts and tee. You smile - your mother in the summer is your favorite mother.

“May’s key lime pie. That’s who I’m excited to see,” you reply.

Your mom bursts out laughing. You try to mimic her relaxed pose and air as she drives, but you can’t quite match it. Nearly everything about your summers is serene - except for a certain brunette.

“I’m pretty excited about that, too, babe. And seeing May herself, of course.”

“Of course!”

Your mom and May Parker had been friends for years - they went back to from before you were born. May was as much your family as anyone could be, even if you only saw her in person two months out of the year.

The lull following your comment eventually becomes silence once again, and you go back to trying to relax. It’s no use, though - the closer you come to the beach, the more you feel yourself tense up. Occasionally it’s your jaw or the gradual grit of your teeth that you try to fend off - other times you would catch your forehead wrinkle or your shoulders hunch. Maybe the boys have the right idea about that nap…

“Mom, are we close?”

You crane your neck to see into the backseat. Both of the little devils were awake again. Your hopes for a nap fell instantly.

“We’ve got about twenty minutes left, fellas,” your mom answered, and you could feel yourself smile just a bit. Despite your anxiety, you’re ready for what awaits you.

As the boys pester your mother with questions, you notice a vibration in your pocket. A text. Your smile faded as you checked it. You quickly put it away, not wanting to respond. You glance back over at your mom, who you could tell had caught whatever had just happened with you. She gives you look right before turning back to the road and easing on the gas on the light in front of you turned green.

You don’t want to speak to Peter. And you were very scared of seeing him in now less than ten minutes.

Of course, you should check his text. He could just be asking if you were alright - maybe you and your family were running behind, and May couldn’t text for some reason. Perhaps he was asking for a grocery reference, but if it were really so important, he’d wait until you got there. Right?

You’re not sure when the anxiety about Peter started. You know it stems from the fact that you two had never become the brother-sister pair May and your mother had expected. You had been summer best friends without fault for years - but recently, you had crossed into the dangerous territory of considering the thought of _more_ , and you know the sentiment is not returned. You don’t trust yourself to hide what you’re feeling, and even more than that, you don’t trust yourself to be okay if you couldn’t.

You have less than twenty minutes to get your act together, and you know it isn’t going to happen if you answer that text.

“The boys are asleep again,” your mother whispers.

“They just woke up!”

“They won’t even remember waking up.”

You know why your mother told you - she wants in on why you’re so tense.

“Peter texted me.”

“And he said?”

“I haven’t checked it.”

“[Y/N].”

“I can’t, mom.”

“It’s a text.”

“I’ve prepared myself to see him in ten minutes. Not now, not ten minutes ago. I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

Yeah, that doesn’t sound crazy at all. Go you.

“Right. Ten minutes. It’s closer to five at the moment.”

You gape. Five minutes doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things, but you’re hoping that the comedic relief you’re providing will distract your mother (and yourself) from your nerves.

“But you said twenty ten minutes ago!”

You mother shrugs. “Traffic’s light, I guess.”

You both burst into giggles, which startles the boys awake once more.

“Are we there now?” says Miles, and it only sends you and your mother into more laughter.

As you both calm down, the boys only get more and more excited. “There it is!” Jamie screams.

“Scream when you’re out of this damn car!” you yell. Your mom cuts you a look. “Sorry,” you whisper.

She clears her throat in response. “Listen to your sister.” You can’t help but smile.

The van pulls into the driveway, and both of the boys are unbuckled before you or your mom can move. She laughs as she yells for them to wait and grab a bag. Meanwhile, you can’t move from your seat.

You focus on your sneakers against the bottom of the car, forcing the picture into your mind as you try to calm down. Your pulse is just a bit too fast, and your breathing a bit too harsh, and your mind just a bit too jumbled, and-

There’s a tapping at the window, and the van door is opening.

And there’s Peter Parker, in all his summer glory, and you wish for nothing more in the world that you could run at him, full throttle, and kiss him all the way to the water.

“You good?”

That’s not what’s going to happen, for some obvious reasons.

All you can do is nod in response to his question, and you slowly move to unbuckle and hop out of the car. He gives you a little bit of a smile as you touch the ground and stretch, and you try to return the same look to him. “Bags?” he asks.

A pause. A breath. A choice - _who am I going to be today?_

“I bet I can carry more than you,” you challenge as you lead him to the trunk. You’re doing everything you can think of to hide your nerves and your wants and fool yourself into believing that this summer is the exact same as last summer, and the summer before that, and the summer before that, and-

“I’m pretty sure I could carry more bags than you and you with them.”

“You won’t” you tease, but when you turn to look at him you can already tell that he’s completely serious.

“Of course I will.”

Without hesitation, he picks you up and swings you over his shoulder. “Peter Parker put me down!” you scream. You hit him on the back as he grabs a duffle.

“Ouch!”

“That’s what you get!”

You’re fairly sure that, in another life, you and Peter were as close to brother and sister as you could have gotten. There wasn’t much to say that your relationship with him couldn’t be that, just… feelings.

You find yourself laughing, your stress already dissipating. You’d had nearly a year to be away from him and let self-made tension grow, but being here with Peter is making you feel better and better every second. You know that you’ll always be wishing for more, but laughing in his arms will do for now - and maybe it will even do for forever.

“Peter, I swear to God if you do not drop that girl right now you won’t see that shoreline for the entire two months we’re here.”

You look up from Peter’s shoulder to see May Parker coming down the steps of the beach house. Your eyes meet and you smile. Your own mother is an only child, and without a dad around, there isn’t any aunts or uncles to be had. May, however, is as much your “cool aunt” as anyone could be, and seeing her again makes you fill with joy.

Peter complies to his aunt’s request and gently puts you back on the ground. You give his shoulder a light punch before taking a couple of bags from him and walking to May. She immediately wraps you in a hug, kissing the top of your head. “I know it must be summer once you guys get here,” she whispers, and you have never felt more at home.

“I missed you,” you whisper back, and it really settles in you just how much you did. It’s easy to forget how much you love being here with May and Peter after the initial sadness of leaving the beach house. Of course, you miss them when you aren’t with them, but you never quite understand how much until you’re reunited with them.

“I missed you more, sweet girl,” May says, and she steps back, scanning you from head to toe. “I swear you get taller and even prettier every time I see you.”

“I’ve been the same height for the last three years,” you respond with a laugh.

“I must be getting shorter than,” May jokes, laughing right along with you.

“I hope I’m not expected to get all of these bags,” says Peter, walking up behind you with five bags in clutch.

You shrug. “I grabbed two.”

He huffs. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you left them on the doorstep to spite me,” he says, but you can hear his teasing tone.

“You should both get that stuff inside - we have grocery shopping to do!” May left the two of you to go grab bags herself, and you let Peter lead the way inside.

As the two of you begin to put bags in their respective rooms, you wonder if he’s going to question you about his text that you didn’t respond to. He hasn’t so far, and his mood hasn’t dipped at all yet. You find yourself growing more and more curious about what the text could say, and wishing for an opportunity to go check.

You grab two bags that you realize belong to you and go to your usual room to drop them off. Inside is the same as ever - simple white wooden furniture with occasional pastels embedded throughout the accessories of the room. Glancing behind you to ensure you are alone, you whisk out your phone and go straight to your messages.

_Hurry up, asshat. I miss you_

Not a question, not a confrontation. He just… wanted to see you sooner.

“Did someone finally check my text?”

You know you must look like a deer in headlights. Shame quickly floods in, and you’re upset that you didn’t think you could ball up and just check his text when you got it.

“Mom and I were talking at the time, and I just didn’t think-”

But Peter’s already shaking his head, the corners of his mouth giving away the beginnings of a small smile. “It’s okay, [Y/N]. I was only teasing, y’know.”

His comment doesn’t really help to calm you down, and it doesn’t make you feel better about why you refused to check it when you got it - a reason you don’t feel like owning up to. He seems to catch on to the fact that you’re only getting more anxious as the seconds pass. In true Peter fashion, he puts down the bag slung over his shoulder and tackles you, the both of you falling onto your bed.

“Peter!” you yell, gasping to regain your breath. He only laughs at you, his face buried in your striped comforter. “You’re such an asshole,” you mumble, which only makes him laugh harder. Soon enough, you’re laughing too, and both of you can’t seem to stop.

“What’d I miss?”

You look up to see a smiling May, and for some reason, it only sends you into more hysterics - effectively setting Peter off again, too. _This is what I’ve missed so much._

Peter gets some sense before you do, rolling over and looking to his aunt in the doorway. “We were just laughing,” he says, which makes his bust into more chortles. You’ve gotten to the point that there’s no sound with your chuckles, just painful squeezing in your abdomen. You gasp for breath as you and Peter both begin to calm down, leaving you both with soft smiles.

“Well if you two jokers want food, you better get serious. It’s time to hit up the ol’ reliable Winn Dixie.”

Peter and I lock eyes, and in unison go, “Winn Dixie!”

May shakes her head as we rush out of the room and out to the car, nearly knocking her down in the process. Your mom and your brothers are already in her van. You begin to walk that way when Peter grabs your wrist, stopping you.

“We can go in my car if you want,” he says, and you smile at the shyness in his voice. You turn back to your mom.

“I’m going with Peter!” you yell, and you turn to follow Peter when she gives you a thumbs up.

You know May had given Peter a car when he turned sixteen. They don’t really need a car at all, living in New York, but he always wanted some swanky sports car so she’d given in a gotten one for him.

When you turned sixteen, you didn’t get a car, despite how great it would be for your daily routine - your mom didn’t have that kind of money saved up.

“Did you guys really drive all the way down here in this thing?” you ask, appalled at how… tiny… it is.

“Every single mile,” he replies, and there’s a soft little smile on his face that makes you a little wobbly around the knees.

“How did you get all your stuff down here?”

Peter gestures to the back of the car. “Since we didn’t have passengers in the back, we just fit the overload back there. It was tight, but not too bad.”

“Right,” you say, trying to comprehend all of your family’s luggage trying to fit in this little car. “Winn Dixie?” you question, trying to avoid the mental jigsaw puzzle.

“Winn Dixie!” Peter all-but screams, and the two of you hop in the car, laughing your asses off.


End file.
